


we're trash, you and me

by ohmcgee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6586249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d recognize that blonde hair anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're trash, you and me

“It happens, you know.”

Bruce looks up from his half empty glass to the woman who just sat next to him at the bar. He recognizes her from school, but he can’t quite place her name. He’s run into her a few times in the lounge, thinks she teaches philosophy, or maybe it’s psychology. She looks quite a bit different tonight, her eye makeup thicker and darker, her skirt a little shorter, but he’d recognize that blonde hair anywhere. 

“What’s that?” Bruce asks, lifting the glass up and swallowing the rest of it down, signaling the bartender for another. 

“The thing where you realize you’re just a really well paid babysitter for a bunch of drunk assholes,” she says and takes _his_ drink when the bartender sits it down in front of him, draining half of it in one go. “Everyone handles it differently. But personally, I think the whole bitter alcoholic professor aesthetic works for you.”

“I try my best,” Bruce says wryly and takes his glass back from her. “May I order you your _own_ drink?”

Dinah -- her name comes back to him as soon as she throws her head back and laughs -- just grins and leans across the bar, her tits falling out of her top as she whistles for the waiter and orders exactly what Bruce is having. 

“And how do you handle it?” Bruce asks when she turns in her stool and puts one of her stilettos on the bottom rung, wedges her leg between his thighs. 

“Oh, you know,” Dinah says. “I like to take it out on the precious little children who are wasting mommy and daddy’s money. They call me Professor Cunt Face, did you know that?”

She grins and tips her glass against wine red lips, then sets it on the bar, and Bruce catches the glint off of the diamond on her finger when she slides her hand on his thigh. “Also, crazy sex. Crazy sex helps a _lot._ ”

“Hm,” Bruce says. “Is that your professional opinion then?”

“Very professional,” Dinah grins. 

Ten minutes later Dinah’s locking the door in the men’s room and Bruce is pushing her back against it, tasting the lipstick all over her mouth, the whiskey on her tongue. He gets his hands under her skirt, grips her ass and lifts her up, bites at Dinah’s mouth when she wraps her legs around him and digs the pointy heels of her shoes into his back. 

“Come on,” she says, ripping at the buttons on Bruce’s shirt, tugging and pulling at his belt. “Come _on._

Bruce growls against her throat when she shoves his trousers down and gets her hand around him and Bruce just yanks her panties to the side and shoves inside of her, covering Dinah’s mouth with his hand to soften the scream she lets out. 

The door shudders each time he thrusts into her. Her heels scrape the skin off of his back, but he doesn’t care. She’s perfect. Her hair smells like peaches and she’s so tight and warm and _wet_ and it’s been too long since he’s fucked like this, like nothing else matters except feeling _good._. He kisses her throat, sucks bruises all over, and Dinah gets her hands in his hair, tugs and pulls on it when he pulls her top down and sucks on her nipples. 

“Oh god,” she says when he lifts her up and pounds into her harder, watching her tits bounce as she rides him, those sharp nails digging into his shoulders. “Oh _god_ yes. Fuck me, fuck me just like that. Oh fuck, oh _fuck_ , I’m --”

Dinah jolts forward and buries a scream into the side of Bruce’s neck when she comes and Bruce has to steady himself with one hand on the door behind him when she squeezes like a vice around him, grabs her ass and buries himself deeper and just relishes the feel of her cunt squeezing and pulsing around him as she claws at his back. 

“Don’t fucking _stop_ ,” Dinah says so Bruce gets a better grip on her and lifts her up, fucks up into her with wild, desperate thrusts until finally he slams her back against the wall and cries out into the crook of her shoulder, just holding her there as he spills inside of her, grunting each time his cock twitches inside of her.

“See,” Dinah says moments later, when Bruce finally pulls out and sets her down. He tries to help her right her clothing, but she just rolls her eyes and pulls her top up, steps out of her soaking panties and hands them to him. “Feel better now, don’t you?”

“Quite,” Bruce says. “But --”

Dinah leans in and pats his cheek, kisses him there when she takes her hand away. “Thanks a bunch, Bruce,” she says. “Don’t let the job destroy your liver, okay?”

“Mm,” Bruce says, still holding her underwear when she walks out of the men’s room. “I’ll do my best.”


End file.
